


Little Goddess & the Mercy Blade

by sleepylotus



Category: Faith Hunter, Jane Yellowrock - Fandom, Mercy Blade
Genre: F/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:32:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylotus/pseuds/sleepylotus
Summary: Jane doesn't quite know what to think about Girrard diMercy, Ansu and Mercy Blade to the New Orleans Mithrins. She knows she should hold any and all of the Master of the City's entourage at arm's length--but G's interest seems beguilingly genuine--and she's lonely. After a little dancing and a little fighting, Jane finds she has a few things in common with the Mercy Blade.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this a long time ago, but I just found it while looking for something else on my computer, and thought hell, maybe it’s time to share. I see that there isn’t really any other Jane Yellowrock fic around, but maybe y’all are writing and keeping to yourselves too? Anywho…I wrote this I guess after reading Mercy Blade, before we really found out much about Girrard, and Ms. Hunter set him up to be more of a Zorro-esque character than what he has turned out to be. My own head canons/bastardizations abound. I hope you enjoy and any feedback is greatly welcomed! :)

**I.**

Jane knew she couldn’t get out of attending the ball at vamp HQ, but no one had said she couldn’t _hide out_ for most of the duration of this fanghead shindig. After piling up a plate of sundries she hit the halls, and perhaps it was no mistake when she found herself in what looked like a fencing gallery, one wall covered in swords gleaming with deadly artistry, and the other wall covered in a bank of large mirrors. She perused the blades the way most people would peruse art on the wall of a gallery, munching absently on shrimp and canapés from her plate.

“You fight fiercely with a knife, little Goddess, but do you know how to use one of these?”

Jane jumped in her skin, the plate wavering in her grip.

She recognized G’s accented lilt, but had not heard his approach. Hadn’t smelled him either.

He was good.

Too good.

A first rate sneak, and though she liked him she didn’t exactly think she could trust him.

“I’m afraid that’s not a weapon in my extensive repertoire,” she confessed, turning to greet G with a small smile.

Girrard DiMercy looked handsome as the devil in a dark suit, black dress shirt, and gleaming black silk tie tucked into a waistcoat. She noticed he was not dressed in a tux like most of the partygoers, yet the elegant man managed to look every bit as dashing. Gold glinted at his cuffs, a tack in his tie, and a watch chain in the waist coat, a little fob in the shape of a skull hanging from the button. Surprisingly, he was without his sword, though she felt certain the Mercy Blade had other weapons hidden away.

 “Would you like to learn?”

Derisively Jane’s gaze travelled from his sharp ensemble to her own: a dark red chiffon number that scooped low in front and back. There were subtle ruffles at the asymmetrical hem that followed a slit in the skirt that ended about mid-thigh. She wore her black dancing heels, as much in protest as an act of survival. The dress had shown up at her door with a note from Leo, a demand that she wear it masquerading as a flowery request penned on vellum paper and sealed in red wax.

Well, if she hadn’t liked it, she wouldn’t have worn it, she told herself.

“Yes, but I don’t think either of us are dressed for battle tonight.”

G looked her up and down with ill-concealed delight, desire shining in his dark eyes. “Mmm. Perhaps not. _You_ are dressed for dancing. Though, fencing of this sort is very much a deadly dance between combatants.”

“When you do it, maybe. You’re fascinating to watch.”

Humbly he bowed his head for the complement. “You are too kind, milady.”

Jane couldn’t help but laugh, liking the twinkle in his eye perhaps too much. He was a handsome one, this ansu. His skin was the color of melted caramel, his eyes a dark hazel with flecks of green, and a carefully trimmed Van Dyke beard ornamented his handsome features to devastating effect. He was fit and trim as a man in his twenties who diverted himself with swordplay, equestrian arts, and dancing.

She couldn’t help but wonder just how much was glamour tonight. Attempting to see through his magic could get exhausting, though she remembered he wasn’t bad looking underneath his armor.

Jane seemed to surprise the Mercy Blade when she reached up to touch his face, thumb stroking the eyebrow above the eye she’d slashed with her twelve inch vamp killer. “How is your eye, G? I don’t think I ever apologized for hurting you. I’m sorry.”

Taken slightly aback, G tilted his head in regarding Jane.

For a few moments, he let his glamours fall, and she beheld the faint white line bisecting his eyebrow and cheek. But all else seemed well, and the wound was obviously healing.

“I am mending, as you can see. No apology necessary. I know at the time you did not realize we were on the same side, Jane.”

She took a moment to savor the sound of her name on his lips, the J made long and soft in his accented tongue. Beast perked up too, suddenly very interested in the new addition to their company. She liked G, as she liked Leo, and Bruiser, and Rick.

 _Good fighter_ , she chuffed. _Sharp claws._

“Are we?” she asked, laughing a little for the thought. She still thought of herself as a mercenary, even if the mounting evidence, the longer and longer she stayed, seemed to suggest she was finding a home. Not just in New Orleans, but with the vampires.

What was her life coming to?

“Are we not? You work for Leo, as I do. You have fought several times to keep his city and his throne safe.”

 “I suppose that’s true. Though for all the times he’s tried to kill me, it leaves a girl to wonder why she stays. It seems a little insane.”

 _Leo can seem a little insane_ went unsaid, hanging in the air.

G seemed slightly embarrassed for his longtime friend. “You know he is better now. I have seen to it.”

“I know that’s the party line,” she said quietly, suddenly very interested in a dagger in the display case.

“You do not believe me?” asked G, feigning injury, long fingers pressed to his chest.

“Well, you’ve lied to me before. And I’m the kind of girl who likes to make up her own mind, in time.”

Like, if some time could pass without Leo trying to kill her.

G smiled as though he could read her thoughts, and it was a blinding thing. “I know. And, I do respect that about you.” His smile turned mischievous. “So, what have you decided about me then?”

Jane raised an eyebrow as a damning warmth curled in the pit of her stomach. Beast walked in figure eights within her, thick pelt brushing against her insides. “What about you?”

G circled her as a dancer on the flamenco floor, or perhaps more likely, a predator inspecting its quarry. Deep inside, beast’s interest stirred for the game G played. Jane could feel the great cat coiling to pounce within.

Somehow, pouncing on G in any capacity did not sound like the best idea.

“Am I friend or foe?” he clarified, amusement clear as a bell in his tone.

“Well…” Jane raised one slashing black eyebrow. “Despite it all, I don’t apologize to foes for cutting them. So I guess we’re friends. Sort of.”

G laughed joyously, nothing held back. She liked that about him, and couldn’t help but join a little. “Well, that is excellent news.”

“But…” Jane turned to face him, suddenly unable to give the Mercy Blade her back. “I also am wary of you. I never know what is real with you, and what you just want me to see. You make yourself devastatingly handsome with glamour and it’s a little unfair. And don’t give me a line about being unable to help yourself in the _face of my beauty_ , because I know better.”

G tilted his head in regarding Jane, a very birdlike gesture, reminding her just what his truest form was beneath the veil of a human skin. A small smile spread his shapely lips. “Between us, little Goddess, I do not believe I am the only one who masquerades in a human form.” Jane paused, her heart thudding in her chest ,as she wondered what exactly G knew about her other form.

Beast chuffed, amused. Unlike Jane, she wasn’t afraid. She knew, as all cats know, that she was a magnificent and superior being to all who would behold her.

But before she could ask, G went on. “But if you would prefer, I can tone down the glamour, for you.”

The air seemed to waver about G, the pink and purple and blue swirls of his magic subsiding, and there he stood before her, bare of guile. She could see the scar at his eye. Faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Smile lines.

There was another scar at his neck, just below the ear. His skin did not seem so smooth, so boyish, so free of blemish. Ever so slightly, his nose was a little crooked from a past break. And despite it all, he was still tall and lithe and muscular, a beautiful specimen of Iberian masculinity as was ever made.

“I like you better as you really are, G,” she said quietly, looking him up and down.

For a split moment, Jane read something new in G’s eyes. Tenderness? Surprise? She couldn’t be sure, but it disappeared as ripples will settle into a pond. “Not many women do, Jane.”

“Well, there are a lot of foolish women out there,” she said with a smile.

G regarded her with a seriousness she was not accustomed to, from the usually charming and flirtatious Ansu. “Jane, I will tell you something no one else here knows. Not even Leo.”

“You don’t owe me that.”

“But I find that I want to. I do not like it that we began our association with lies, no matter how necessary. I am only half Ansu, little Goddess. My father really was Castillian Spanish nobility. I did not lie about that. He met my mother in the territory of California, where he was the lord of a great Hacienda, and she served as the vampire master’s Mercy Blade there. I was born with most of the abilities and magics of the Ansu. My blood quells the insanity of the doloré in vampires. But as you can see,” he said, gesturing towards his face, “I am aging, ever so slightly. I am hard to kill, but I do not believe I am truly immortal. Time may well take my life someday, if something more violent does not manage first.”

Utterly taken aback that G would share so intimate a secret with her, Jane studied him carefully. Her first instinct, after wonder, was suspicion. Why would he tell her this? What did he want in return?

What indeed.

“How old are you?” she asked. Why not, while the info was flowing? She didn’t sign a contract to reciprocate.

“Three hundred, give or take a year.”

He smiled for her expression of surprise.

“Well, you are a _well_ preserved three hundred, G.”

He bowed his head in thanks, with all the grace of a man born to a noble father and goddess mother.

“You don’t want anyone else to see the signs of your aging, do you? That’s why the glamour.”

“It would only be noticeable in a house full of vampires, who have known me for several centuries,” he acknowledged. “And besides. I suppose I am a little vain.”

Again, Jane laughed at his honesty. He had a way of bringing that out in her. Joy that filled her too far to contain, so that it must escape as sound. “But doesn’t it feel good to be…to just be?” she asked, gesturing to the entirety of his well-formed figure.

“With you? Perhaps. Yes. It feels very good, with you. I like the way you look at me, Jane Yellowrock.” Carefully he raised a hand to cup her cheek, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear in a way that made her shiver. He held her gaze for a long moment, and Jane could feel something weighing upon her. It felt alarmingly like expectation.

“So is it my turn to share some deep dark secret about myself?” she asked wryly.

G’s lips curled. “I am all ears, milady.”

“I’ll just bet you are.”

She couldn’t help but wonder if Leo had assigned Gerard to ferret out her secrets, and the thought made her a little sad. She took a step back, attempting to shake off the feeling of his warm hand upon her skin. The memory was not so easily banished, and she resented him a little for it.

“Suddenly a cloud hovers about your countenance, little Goddess. Is it something I said?”

“I’m just wondering if Leo ordered you to find out my secrets,” she admitted honestly.

Her pulse quickened when G stepped into her once more, taking her hands in his. “Believe me, Jane. I am curious all on my own.” He kissed the back of her hand, gently, and her stomach did a full on backflip.

“You call me _little Goddess_ , and I have no idea why. Maybe you already know more than I do.”

Again, G tilted his head in that birdlike gesture. “There is something in your energy that feels…similar to mine. But you smell wild and free and pure, of the way the world was before the industrial revolution filled the air with poisonous billows of coal smoke. And, you smell…” Delicately he sniffed the bend of her neck, and gooseflesh erupted down her spine. “Of cat. And you move like cat, lithe and graceful and dangerous. But you are not were. Of this I am certain. The wolves reek, but even the feline weres have a certain…stench about them. They smell cursed. But you? You smell…blessed. You smell of pure magic and gifts bestowed from the other realm. Goddess born.”

He regarded her with a tilted eyebrow, the question hanging in the air between them.

_So what are you?_

She would feel a little stupid, telling him that she didn’t exactly know, and could remember even less.

“G…” she sighed softly, and he heard the notes of protest in her words.

Gently, he smiled. “Perhaps someday you will trust me enough to tell me. Until then…” Unexpectedly, G launched her into a controlled twirl, and pulled her back into his arms, holding her weight as he’d taken her by surprise. Which…surprised her. “We should put this dancing dress to good use.”

She steadied herself against his chest, a hand upon his pectoral. Beneath his vest and shirt she could feel the solid muscle there. That, at least, was very real, and she could feel a tell-tale heat begin to simmer in her belly. All too aware, the Ansu smiled down at her, an infuriating quirk of lips that promised everything her imagination should contrive and more.

“Should we go back to the dance floor then?”

“We could.” More slowly, G propelled her into another turn, the music piping in overhead heady with a slow Cuban beat. A bolero.

Oh god, thought Jane. Why a bolero?

Beast rumbled with pleasure inside. She liked this slow dance of predator and prey, the eternal chase of man and woman, male and female.

“But then I would have to share you. And I do not want to.”

Jane smiled, her body flowing with the music and G’s flawless lead, the slow and romantic dance playing out between them, bodies at stark angles from each other, yet somehow also intertwined. “I suppose I don’t mind hiding out in the armory a little longer.”

“What were you hiding from, before I arrived?” G led her into a pretzel-like turn, his hands warm and firm in hers, letting her out and drawing her back in like a fish on a hook.

“Hmm. I had to make an appearance here, but it seems like every time I attend one of these things someone tries to eat me.”

G laughed for her candor. “I know exactly what you mean.” His blood too smelled sweet as the headiest of liquor.

“But no one would dare try to force themselves on you. Not here.”

The ansu’s expression darkened, and Jane wished she could read his thoughts. “And who do you fear would try to force you, Jane? You should be paid deference as a hero within these halls. You have done enough for the Mithrins of New Orleans to deserve it.”

Jane shook her head, sensing that suddenly she stood on unsteady ground. “I’ve killed for the Mithrins, but I did it for money. I guess that makes me less a hero and more a…word that starts with a W.”

G’s eyes narrowed for the metaphor. The song came to a close, and G held Jane in a low dip over his leg, her long hair sweeping the floor beneath them. She did not flinch, trusting the strength in his muscle corded arms to hold her. “I would slit anyone who dared utter such a thing from navel to nose.”

The word _nose_ was punctuated by the tip of his own brushing hers, in a way that sent her heart to gallop. Deep inside, Beast purred, approving.

 _Good mate. Strong hunter_ , she urged.

G eyed her mouth with less than subtle interest.

As he leaned down towards her, she tilted her head back, taking a deep breath that only filled her nose with his scent. Something spicy and masculine, paired with the surprising sweetness of lilacs.  “I appreciate the gallantry, G, but I know I’m a mercenary.”

Lips pursed with slight disappointment for lack of a kiss, G righted Jane in his arms, seamlessly leading her into the next dance.

Meringue.

Maybe not an improvement. She hoped she could keep it ballroom style. Beast hoped she couldn’t.

“So you say. And yet here you are. Time passes, and you stay…here. With us.”

“I like New Orleans,” Jane defended. “And Leo pays very well.”

Obviously not quite buying it as the entire story, G nodded, a small smile curling the corner of his mouth.

Their bodies gyrated with the heady Cuban music, slow and seductive, heated and heavy.

Jane decided she very much wanted to change to subject. “You know, for someone who derided Zorro as a dancing master, you aren’t bad yourself.”

“I did not say I could not dance,” said G, twirling her again, watching her skirts fan out with too much delight. “I simply imparted that Zorro was not the fighter history remembers him as.”

“So you knew him in California. When California was a territory?”

“When California was still a part of the Spanish empire, actually. But also, a territory, yes.”

“And how did you end up in New Orleans?”

A bit of the light drained from G’s eyes as he thought on how to answer this question, and Jane was almost sorry she asked. She recognized the signatures of deeply buried pain when she saw them. She had plenty of her own, she should know.

Just when enough time passed Jane felt certain G would not answer, he said, “I had served for a lifetime by my mother’s side as a Mercy Blade in her master’s household. Then war came, and laid waste to everything. I lost my mother, my father, my lover, my friends. Rather than serve the new master I escaped to find a new home. I travelled many places, but New Orleans was a special jewel then, as she is now. I became friends with Leo, and was later instated as his uncle Amery’s Mercy Blade.”

Jane couldn’t help but pause in their motion, and chest to chest she stood with G, studying the sadness in his eyes. “G, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”

The ansu closed his eyes for a long moment, regaining control of his grief, so sharp even after so many centuries passed. “I suppose a man cannot live as long as I without losing his home once or twice,” he said, attempting to sound flippant, but coming across as utterly grave. “Yet I do not think I would have told you, if I did not suspect you would understand the experience personally.”

A lightning bolt shot through her, her fingers flexing in the grip of his hand, as Jane wondered what exactly G knew of her past. And a part of her wanted to tell him. Wanted to share herself, not as quid pro quo, but for the simple human act of being known by another being in their vast and lonely universe.

“I understand,” she said softly. “But honestly, G…” She closed her eyes, feeling dizzy and uncharacteristically weak in the knees. “I don’t remember much of it. My family, my people, are lost to me in my memory as much as in the physical world.”

G cupped her cheek in his hand, carefully turning her averted gaze up to his, calling her attention back to him. “Jane.”

“I shouldn’t have told you that,” she sighed, even as something inside felt very good for sharing the burden of the secret.

“I am not a spy, Jane. I am the Mercy Blade. What you say to me stays with me.”

“Let’s not fool ourselves. You answer to Leo.”

“Yes and no. We both occupy a strange and similar space here in the Mithrin world. We are not vampires, yet neither are we servants or slaves. This is home yet we are not beholden. We are family but also…we are death.”

A small laugh escaped her, and it sounded a little broken. “So, we have much in common, you and I,” she said in her best Bond villain tone.

“Perhaps. I also think you are the only person within these walls who might be as lonely as I.”

Jane paused for a heartbeat, then two, regarding G closely. A part of her wanted to protest, to say how could he be lonely now, after regaining his home and place as the Mercy Blade once more? But somehow she understood what he meant, all too well.

Instead, something else escaped her mouth, and she wasn’t sure it was an improvement.

“Is that why you chase me, G? Because we’re lonely in the same way?”

The light returned to G’s eyes, that curious dark hazel glinting with emerald green sparking with mischief once more. “I chase you because you are beautiful and dangerous and amusing, Jane Yellowrock. I like you. Is that such a crime?”

Jane’s eyes narrowed, but she was glad the dark cloud over their heads lifted once more. “It might be.”

G laughed, and began leading her in the dance once more. She tried not to think about what he’d said and just enjoy this moment, this controlled intimacy in the dance with the barrier of clothes and a party going on outside to hopefully keep her safe.

Perhaps she was kidding herself.

She felt certain she wouldn’t be the first woman G debauched with a crowded room not but footsteps away.

Jane enjoyed G’s hands on her, leading her expertly around the cleared space in the center of the room. Almost certainly, this space was meant for sparring of a different kind.

“You know what else you are dressed for?” G insinuated, pulling her body in close to his.

“I’m afraid to ask.”

A rogue smile overtook G’s features as his gaze travelled appreciatively down her form. “Undressing,” he answered. “It would be a tragedy for you to slip out of this devastating red gown alone tonight.”

Jane’s breath hitched in her throat, several moments passing as she fought to dream up something scathing to say in reply, and she only managed to imagine what it would be like to feel G’s nimble fingers sliding her zipper down her spine.

How long _had_ it been? Ricky Bo was _long_ gone, and Beast made certain not to let her forget it. It didn’t help that a full moon was well on its way.

Finally she settled for a muttered, “You are incorrigible.”

“That was not a _no_ ,” he replied in a singsong tone that once more made her smile.

“It wasn’t a _yes_ , _”_ she assured him.

“Then let me ask you something I think you will agree to?”

“Oh? What’s that?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her tone.

“When are we to have our first fencing lesson?”

“Fencing huh?” Jane looked around at the elegant blades that adorned the walls of the armory. She felt very out of place with weapons like these. “You said it yourself when we first met, G. I fight dirty, without apology. I’m not sure _fencing_ is quite my speed. It’s too…elegant.”

G would not relent, as though they were already locked in battle. “It could prove useful to you, little Goddess. After claiming the title of Leo’s _enforcer_ , you may well be fighting a duel sooner than you think. What will you do if rapiers are chosen, and you must leave your guns and long knife behind?”

More and more, Jane was coming to rue the day she ever read the word _enforcer_ in the Vampira Carta, much less uttered it in that altercation in Asheville.

“I’m not really Leo’s Enforcer. You know this.”

G raised an eyebrow archly.

“Perhaps you are not bound, but you are well on your way.”

“I claimed the title because I was desperate to absolve a dangerous situation. _On behalf of Leo._ It worked. He knows this, and should be more than happy to let me out of it. I don’t want the honor. And I’m not going to drink his blood.”

“True, Leo may not require it of you. The Master lets things slide with you, little Goddess, that he would not others. It still would not hurt to prepare for a brand of battle that is common in our world, which you are not familiar.”

“You are relentless. Did Leo put you up to this?”

“You keep insinuating that. Is it so incredulous that I may act of my own accord?” teased G.

Jane didn’t answer. She was learning to see Leo’s hand in everything. The vampire was like a grand chess master, moving the pieces on his board to flawless offense and defense.

“You cut a man’s ego to pieces, Jane Yellowrock, forcing him to reveal his hand so early in the game. I want to spend time with you. There, satisfied?”

A small smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. “And you want to show off.”

G pressed long fingers to his chest, as though gripping a wound. “All men are peacocks at heart, little Goddess.”

“And demi-Ansu even more so?”

“ _Exactamente_.”

A part of Jane actually very much wanted to take part in this game with G. She could learn a thing or two, and it would be fun to fight with him. He really was a master of his art, the likes of which not many remained, she imagined. But another niggling voice warned her that this would lead nowhere good for her in the end.

She’d never been very good at listening to that voice.

“Okay, G, you win. Two nights from now, you can give me a fencing lesson.”

The ansu smiled brightly, for a moment appearing very young in his expression of joy.

“I anticipate the honor with utmost excitement, little Goddess.”

“You say that now. I’m not an easy pupil.”

G pursed his lips. “I see that you make most things harder than they should be for yourself.”

“Hey, if I wanted psycho-analysis I would have gone to a shrink, not a vampire party.”

G laughed, spinning her expertly, and the conversation lulled for a while as they lost themselves in the physical actions of the dance once more.

“You know, you never answered my question earlier.”

“Which?”

“Of what Mithrin here you fear would force a feeding upon you.”

Jane bit her lip, suddenly reluctant once more.

“It doesn’t matter,” she sighed.

G paid her an appraising look. To her knowledge, he couldn’t read minds, yet it seemed he could see it all behind her eyes.

“Which means…you fear Leo.”

Jane ground her teeth, and deep inside Beast hissed. _We fear no vampire_ she insisted, claws extending into Jane’s mind so hard Jane flinched.

“Is it that obvious?”

“He will not hurt you.”

“He _has_ hurt me. He’s tried to kill me several times, actually.”

The dance came to an end, G pulling Jane in close, her back to his front.

“That was before I returned,” he murmured into the dark cloud of her hair. “I will not let him, Jane.”

She tilted her head, regarding Girard behind her. His body fit against hers like a long lost puzzle piece, her curves settling against his masculine form with a perfection that was unnerving.

“Last time I checked, you’re not his babysitter. Maybe his title is Master of the City, but we both know that really he is King.”

A sudden clapping from the doorway caused both dancers to start a little. Caught up in their dance, neither noticed the Master of the City himself standing there. “Well, it is good that _someone_ remembers, though I never thought I would hear our Jane utter the words.”

Leo paid G a look that was imperious and not exactly kind.

The ansu, however, did not back down. Though he straightened behind her, G’s hand remained at her waist, settled in the curve above her hip. She liked his hand there, enough that it was a little embarrassing. Luckily her Cherokee coloring didn’t show a blush easily.

“Would you be so kind as to give us the room, Jane? I would like a word with my Mercy Blade.”

Jane hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave G alone with this pissed off vampire. Though she knew G could handle himself, Leo’s moods were volatile at best as of late. Reading her all too well, G gave her a gentle nudge at the small of her back. “Go on, little Goddess. I will be fine.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, and saw his expression was grave, though not afraid. It assured her a little, and so she made her way for the door, pausing briefly before Leo. Inquiringly he canted his head, curious what she might dare say next. She was always good for a laugh for the Mithrins, that was for sure.

Her lips parted to speak, but a request that Leo not freak out and hurt G died on her lips. It would do no good, and any case…G didn’t need her to protect him. As the silence drew on something like tenderness passed over Leo’s fine Gallic features. “I will find you later, my Enforcer,” promised Leo, daring to reach up to brush a lock of raven hair behind her ear. She let him do it; didn’t even flinch. A part of her wanted to run—though beast wanted to rub her cheek against his hand, mark him with her scent.

Damn full moon.

“No thanks,” she said flatly. “I’m going home.”

Leo frowned at her rebuff but let her go unscathed, watching her tall form retreat out the door, the way that dress molded her lithe form causing something inside to _ache_ in a way that felt almost _human_. She could feel his eyes upon her back, even after she quietly shut the door behind her.

Once they were alone Leo turned to Girrard, all tenderness gone from his black eyes. “I believe you forget yourself, Mercy Blade. Need I remind you of my Right of Kings?”

Girrard dared raise an eyebrow at the implication that Jane could be considered a part of Leo’s stable, subject to such antiquated claims. “I think you well know she would not stand for such a thing.”

“Perhaps not. But it should be enough to stay your wandering eye, should I demand you leave her to me.” Girrard knew that Leo was fond of Jane Yellowrock, perhaps beyond the usual desires for a feed and a fuck—but so was he, if truth were told. He also knew that the Master of the City was probably still more than a little sore after thinking he’d been cuckolded by G with his sweet Magnolia for all these years, an assumption that had only recently been put to ground.

“I never received such an order directly,” he admitted honestly.

Leo supposed that Girrard had not been present when Jane first came to the New Orleans Mithrins—and Leo had made his claim known. Still, it was no secret among their flock.

“And if I forbid you now?”

“Jane would not like it,” said Girrard, which was true.

“Would you be the one to tell her?”

“She would find out. She always does.”

That too was true—Yellowrock had an uncanny and annoying habit of ferreting out Leo’s secrets, of all kinds. The thought of which made the MOC’s expression look as though he’d tasted something sour.

“I thought you would be pleased,” said Girrard, affecting nonchalance even as he knew he skated upon thin ice. “I was so very close to finding out exactly what our little Goddess is. The mystery continues to elude us.”

Leo raised one dark brow, clearly not to be thrown off the scent so easily. “You would have me believe you have been serving my interests all along?”

The corner of G’s mouth quirked up slightly, though he did not dignify Leo’s inquiry with more lies. They had known each other too long for that. “Are you not curious, my liege?”

“I am, though I had intended to discover her _secret_ for myself someday.” G remained silent, finding the thought twisted his insides in a way that was not exactly _pleasant._ The Master countered with, “Are you in love with her, Mercy Blade?”

Girrard raised his eyebrows—that was a bit much, and a dangerous thing to admit besides, in this brutal world. “I am fond of her. Very fond,” he felt comfortable acknowledging. “And, I do think it would be wise to initiate her into _our_ ways of the blade. That knife she calls _the vamp killer_ will only take her so far in our world.”

Leo paid his Mercy Blade a long and considering look. A lesser man may have squirmed, but G simply stood before his King like a rock amidst the river, waiting for his master’s word.

“Very well,” Leo agreed, and somewhat to G’s surprise. He did not show it, only inclined his head. “You have my leave to conduct this _lesson_ with my Enforcer. She is a powerful weapon, G, whatever she may be. Hone her well for me.”

Girrard knew he should leave it be, but in the end he had to know. “And the rest, my liege?”

Leo met his eyes, and had he been wearing a sword Girrard would have been tempted to rest his hand on the pommel, the threat was so imminent in the room. In the end the Master of the City smiled, a slight and sly curl of lips that held no warmth. “I will leave it to your good reason, G. You surely know by now what would please me.”

It was not a _no,_ per se, and yet certainly not a _by your leave._

Was it a threat?

Almost certainly.

Only after Leo vacated the room and had walked _far_ down the hall did G let a disconsolate sigh escape from between his lips.


End file.
